


falling from the clouds

by castlestr33t



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cancer, Character Death, M/M, its just really sad tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:39:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlestr33t/pseuds/castlestr33t





	falling from the clouds

louis has always hated the library. he has totally detested the library from a young age when being silent was boring and action man was still cool. it’s always too quiet, too daunting, too demanding. the problem is, louis loves writing and reading and anything to do with literature and education, so unfortunately, he often finds himself in the library, scanning the high dusty shelves and running his petit hands along the spines of the warm and inviting books that whisper to him seductively to “take us home”.

the thing about louis william tomlinson is that he’s often described as a walking contradiction by his teachers and peers. the thing is, louis is loud and annoying and open minded however,he is also soft and thoughtful and brooding. so - of course - it’s always a shock to every person that he meets when he confesses to them that he’s a english literature student at the university, instead of drama which the majority of people peg him for: that always makes louis laugh. drama is shit. the unspoken word is so much more powerful in his blue eyes.

he supposes that’s why he’d prefer to read books and watch silent movies more than anything else whilst eating a rather large plate of fish and chips cooked by his favourite roommate, niall. him being his favourite because the boy can actually cook as opposed to him and liam who are both helplessly rubbish at anything culinary but niall is studying food studies and catering so it’s just a given really, that he’s actually good at cooking.

it’s a warm sunday afternoon and louis is browsing the books, looking for something, anything, everything that will help him to finish the last section of his paper which is unfortunately nowhere near finished despite the deadline being a close three days away.

it’s then that louis spots him.

heaven.

okay, louis will admit, that was a slight mental exaggeration but all the same. he’s a boy really, but a really pretty boy, nonetheless.

the pretty boy is sat at a long wooden table just beneath the shakespeare novels, stacks of paper surrounding him as he seems to stare with disdain at one piece of crumpled paper that is in front of him. louis notices what seems to be a homemade cupcake in front of the boy and he wonders if the boy bakes. he wonders if he likes to bake. he wants to know. louis needs to know.

louis’ eyes rake over the boy shamelessly, taking in the mussed curls that are hanging limply over his forehead, the pain of his dark eyelashes that contrast delicately against his pale cheeks, the weariness that paints his full lips from obvious lip-biting, the way his ramones tee-shirt hang loosely off his collarbones therefore revealing the skin that louis wants to touch, want to mark, wants to own.

the urge to talk to the boy and find more out about him is strong and heavy in louis’ lungs. 

he wants to know what his favourite colour is, if he is into the whole supernatural vampire series thing that the television is always raving about, why he always bites his lips so much, if he ever thought that wearing green was something only for special occasions the way that louis did (mostly just for niall, because, you know… irish) or how the boy liked his tea in the morning. that was, if he even drunk tea or anything hot in the morning.

 

so - although it seems a subconscious movement, louis deep down knows that he’s doing it on purpose, just so that he has the chance to get closer to the mystery that is clouding his mind – louis walks closer to the boy and smiles brightly as he always does when meeting new people.

new people, new stories, new opportunities, he’s sure he read once.

“hello” 

“i have cancer.” mystery boy barely glances up, his – green? blue? brown? god knows what colour – eyes still focused on the tranquil piece of paper situated in front of him. the way the strange, beautiful boy says the three words seem like a cut off, an end to a conversation and a way that the boy would block all human contact out. it makes louis sad. cancer is horrific and life-threatening but louis cannot fathom why it should provide a reason for the lack of human contact or the want of. surely this boy is lonely?

louis pauses.

“um, as far as greetings go, this must be the most interesting greeting i’ve received.” his voice is indifferent and soft, a small half smile spreading across his face. this boy is messing with his already scattered thoughts.

“your point?” the boy is on a constant defence, his green eyes guarded and closed off.

“point? must everything have a point?” louis says.

“i have cancer.” the tense boy repeats again.

“i don’t care.” louis decides with a shrug, and he tucks his book underneath his arm, flicking his bronze fringe out of his eyes.

the boys are at least two feet away from each other but louis can tell – he knows – that this boy smells wonderful. like warm water and lavender. the boy’s green eyes are framed with long eyelashes and despite the bags underneath the boy’s guarded, tired eyes, he’s still the most beautiful boy louis has ever been in close contact with.

sinful, pink lips, pale skin, discarded curls that are peeking out of the green beanie that is resting securely on the boy’s head.

“well, you should.” he frowns, a small knitting of his dark eyebrows which is a warm contrast against his pale, translucent skin.

“i should do a lot of things.” louis almost agrees with the boy and smiles crookedly again. “but i don’t.”

the boys says nothing for a while and louis still hasn’t resorted back to his books, instead shuffling his backside onto the expanse of the table that the boy is sat at. a smile pulls at his lips as he watches indecision and emotion bind dominantly around his irises.

“like what?” the curly haired boy finally asks, refusing to meet louis’ amused gaze.

tapping his fingertips lazily against the table, louis purses his lips and shrugs. “a lot of things.” he repeats. “i should do my laundry, for instance. i should cut back on junk food, i should pick up my guitar that has been locked in solitude in my wardrobe for the past three years, i should actually try a drink from starbucks instead of taking the piss out of it and everything associated with it, i should find a pretty boy and fall in love and i should get my facebook deactivated. but... i don’t.”

he ignores the way the boy’s mouth falls open, he ignores how deliciously inviting the boy’s lips are and he most certainly ignores the twisting at the pit of his stomach which scream at him to grab the boy and kiss him until they run out of breath.

“you’re weird.” the boy decides in a breath.

“you’re the one that started a conversation by stating a side effect of your life.” louis shrugs and holds his hands up in surrender. “but i’m not judging.”

“side effect? how the fuck is cancer a side effect?” the boy snaps and despite the venom in his voice, the boy is reacting and responding to the world. louis likes it.

“cancer isn’t your life. it is a part of your life. a side effect of how your life will end or be compromised.”

“you’re a writer.” point blank. no question.

louis smirks. “how did you know? was it the stack of books? or the glasses? ooh! maybe you’re psychic!” he teased and winked cheekily.

the boy blushed and giggled loudly before clapping a hand over his mouth in shock. two points for louis.

“so you do laugh and convey positive emotion!” louis cooed and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth slowly - a force of habit - and obviously he ignored the way that the boy’s eyes followed the movement. “can i know your name?” he asked.

“harry.” the boy - harry, louis corrected himself subconsciously - replied before his face changed to a mixture of shock and self annoyance at the clear fact that he actually gave his name away to this stranger. which led to the question whether harry talked to many new people or if his name was special to him. perhaps it held his identity to him, therefore giving it away then gave part of his character away. or maybe he just thought louis was really strange.

either were plausible. 

“m’louis, if you were wondering.” louis offered with a gesture of his tanned hand.

“i wasn’t.”

“course not.” louis muttered dryly. well harry...” louis’ eyes dashed to the clock on the watch that was wrapped firmly around his wrist and his heart sunk: just a little bit. if he didn’t leave now, he’d be late for dinner at home. home. did harry have a home? did he like his home, enjoy being there, wish he could call somewhere else his home? louis didn’t want to leave, in fact, he’d rather spend the rest of his time with harry just to find out more about this mysterious boy. (he must’ve been a boy by the youth swimming in the sad green eyes of his, the volume of his brown curls, the defensive posture that he’d watched harry convey). “it has been lovely meeting you. but with my most sincere regret, i must leave you.” louis hesitated. “may i have your mobile number?”

“no.”

it wasn’t really shocking to louis, but still, rejection hurt and the older boy tried to ignore the stab in his chest and instead focus on keeping a smile firmly on his face. 

“alas, young harold.” he sighed despite himself. “farewell.”

turning on his heel with reluctance, louis left the building and trudged his way back to his flat where people were surely awaiting his arrival.

but all louis could think about was harryharryharry.

shit. this was not good. not at all.

~

niall was sat on the couch wearing only a psir of grey jogging bottoms when louis returned home and as he collapsed onto niall in mock melodramatic fashion, louis couldnt keep the grin off his face.

"whats got you in such a good mood? or who?" niall waggled his eyebrows and laughed loudly against louis' ear. ah, niall knew him well.

"just a boy..." louis teased.

"lou, honey, y'all need to stop and tell me more! suspense is the worst kind of evil, okay?" niall drawled in a southern accent, the corners of his lips pointing heavenwards.

louis laughed. "idiot." he slapped niall over the head with a cushion. niall squeaked in protest. "his names harry." unfortunately, louis couldnt keep the wistful longing out of his soft voice.

niall nodded and in a sudden movement grabbed louis' face in his hands, peppering kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. "oh harold! how straight your hair is! it makes my hole quiver!" the blonde boy exclaimed loudly with a shit-eating grin on his warm face.

louis squealed and pulled out of his grasp with an oof, glaring mockingly at the boy that lay laughing to himself with huge breaths.

in the name of all things dramatic, louis turned and sashayed out of the room with huge exaggeration on the way he moved his hips, throwing nothing over his shoulder but a "he has curly hair asshole!" - which of course only heightened the volume of nialls laughter.

"tomlinson's in looooove!" niall dragged out gleefully in a shout and louis blushed.

maybe he was and maybe hed never see him again so technically, it was perfectly fine to dream about green eyed boys, right? 

at least that's what he told himself that night as the warmth of his duvet accompanied him. 

~

it was january 17th the next time louis caught eye of harry styles.

louis had a shit day: he got a F on his sociology paper and was told by his teacher that unless he made up his mark in a re-do there’s no way that he was going to pass, the last bottle of milk in the fridge had to be chucked out that morning because it’d gone off, he couldn’t find his favourite pair of toms that morning as well and ... it was fucking raining.

shit, as he said.

he trudged his way through the sour streets of london, head bowed as unrelenting droplets of sorrowing rain fell onto his neck and fingertips, soaking into his leather jacket and tired skin. the bright lights from the street lamps glared at him, as if blaming him for the disastrous weather which was definitely not the case because this was fucking shitty rainy england after all.

nothing much caught his eye as he clambered his way in a depressing manner that often took over his nerves when he’s caught in horrid weather down the long street except for the warm, glowing-even-in-the-dismal-exterior-of-london-coffee-shop that louis is so entirely fond of. 

his face lit up.

rushing into the warm atmosphere, louis discarded of the gloves covering his cold hands and stuffed them into his pocket as his bright eyes scanned the room before they landed on a soft figure leaning against the window pane accompanying the seat that they are inhabiting with a blissful, closed-eye look. 

“harry.” louis didn’t realise he’d said his name out loud until a second later when harry’s eyes snap open and his lips formed a round ‘o’. 

forgetting momentarily about ordering a drink or sitting down, louis moved quickly towards harry’s table and a small voice in the back of his mind is hoping that he doesn’t seem like a creep as he settled in the seat across from the ill boy. then again, harry doesn’t seem ill. he looked relatively okay and his green eyes were vibrant, challenging the cruel, harsh weather that is beating away at the rain droplet-stained window.

louis collapsed into the seat without any qualms or hesitations and he smiled easily at the slightly shocked and quiet boy.

“hello sweet cheeks. so we meet again!” louis said with warm glee in his tone.

“hello. louis.” harry said.

then it occurred to louis that maybe harry is with someone, waiting for his friend - date? and no, louis is not bubbling with envy and emerald green jealousy at the thought of harry being on a fucking d-a-t-e - or maybe he’s interrupted his own personal space which wouldn’t normally bother louis in the slightest but this is harry: and for some reason, harry comes with a new set of rules.

“you’re not interrupting anything, lou.” harry whispered with a gentle smile as if he could read louis’ rambling thoughts and louis instantly relaxed, slumping easily in his seat with a warm grin. 

harry’s curls are of course, well, curly, and tight and smooth-looking and his lips are chapped from the obvious cold, red from excessive lip-biting which louis could already tell is a nervous habit that harry indulges in, and his sweater and large jacket hang over his shoulders flawlessly, fitting around his shape perfectly and his hands are tightly clasped together in one another as if providing solace and comfort in himself.

“what do you have?” louis didn’t mean to say it, but deep down he is a nosy bastard.

harry smiled. of course he knows what louis was referring to. what else could he mean, after all? “fallelopia. it’s an um, disorder to the lungs. it means i have limited time and sooner or later i’m going to become really fucking weak but until then i want to stay out the house. god knows i won’t fucking be leaving that sordid room of mine once i hit the cruel stage three of this bullshit.” he released a sharp, sudden chuckle that left louis’ blood running thick and fast through his veins, wonder and pity - unadulterated pity coursed through his body.

“i’m sorry.” louis didn’t know what else to say.

“s’fine,” harry shrugged and louis wished he wouldn’t blow off his own death like that. “ we all die in the end, don’t we? why does it matter how or when? it doesn’t, does it?”

but louis saw the slight shaking that took over harry’s hand.

so, because nothing was stopping louis, he reached over and took both of harry’s hands in his own: harry was initially shocked and his wide eyes darted up to louis’ and then louis was momentarily freaking out because /fuck why did he do that why did he do that harry probably isnt a touchy feely person and now louis is fucking touching his motherfucking hand sweet jesus louis did your mother teach you to be this fucking forward with practical strangers the answer is no/ but then harry exhaled shakily and mouthed a ‘thanks’. the action warmed louis faster than a blasting fire ever could.

in that precise moment, he decided he would make everything as easy for harry as he possibly could, despite this being their second meeting - second! - but louis is someone who falls hard and fast for whomever it may be that he takes an interest in and harry sure is someone that deserves his attention. everyone’s attention, in fact, although louis would be slow and hesitant to admit that he only wants his attention to matter to harry. not the cute skater boy that winked at harry before running back out the door into the rain with his beanie hiding his blonde hair, hand clutching a cup of black coffee. not the tall, hipster girl with the bright red hair that continually checked harry out as she walks back out into the cold night with her two giggling friends in tow. not the bright young seven-year-old that couldn’t help but grin and stare at how “bouncy his curls are, mummy!”. not any of them. just louis. 

the night slowly darkened and dawned in on them both and louis effortlessly kept an eye on the quiet boy as well as watching the endless stream of college kids, whining children and old couples that flitted in and out of the large oak door. 

it was only when the plump, friendly barista approached them both with a friendly but tired smile that louis realised they had to leave. so with a stuttering start, louis shot up out of his seat then immediately glanced down at harry who seems drowsy and slow and louis frowned, instantly worried and mother-hen-ishly over the boy. 

it was a new sensation for the doncaster lad, especially since he hadn’t had to worry about someone other than himself since he flew the nest and watched his mother marry a wonderful man whom he knew would be able to take care of his worrisome mother and loud, rambunctious sisters, but he found himself waiting for harry to stand up and he wrapped an arm around harry’s waist, paying swift attention to the way harry smiled under the attention, the dimmed lighting flickered across the dimples that protruded at the action. with a murmured ‘thanks ma’am’, louis steered them out the door and the couple stood under the bright lamp post. 

“you ‘kay, haz?” the worry and caution leaked into louis’ voice without any filter.

harry laughed shortly. “haz?”

“well, yeah,” louis found himself blushing under the bright yellow light. “ haz. don’t you like it?”

louis expected a loud protest at the silly nickname as what he’d grown accustomed to whenever he teased his sister, lottie, by calling her ‘parking lot’ much to his mother’s dismay - but what he sure as hell did not expect is what harry said next. “can i stop at yours tonight?”

he was shocked, the silence swirled around them uncomfortably but as louis stared at the blushing boy... well, how could louis deny him?

so with an affirmative nod, louis tightened his grip on the languid boy and steered him in the direction of where his flat was situated in the not-so-busy-for-this-time-of-night city.

~

louis apologised a million times once they’re in his dimly lit flat. he was largely embarrassed about the fact that the dishes had been left undone in the sink yet he knew that he wouldn’t be the one to even contemplate washing them. he worried that harry will hate the smell because louis hates the smell because it’s too musky and hairspray dominated thanks to the regular visits that niall’s boyfriend zayn makes into the flat. he hoped that harry would like it - despite the slightly feminine smell -, would like him, would like the colour of the walls, would like his decision to ask him for a place to stay. 

niall was probably in bed - it was a thursday evening.

and thursday’s meant that he would’ve been knackered from the extensive catering lessons that he partakes in with ‘his zayn’. also known as, let’s feed niall lots of food and pretend that they’ve decided that working in pairs is a much more effective way of working so that he can wobble home, eat some more, cuddle with zayn before sending him home in time for niall to collapse into his bed, crappy music blaring from his headphones.

louis couldn’t help but smile at the sarcastic tone of his own thoughts.

louis felt harry before he saw him. the soft breath on his neck, the warmth that enveloped his cocoon of self-awareness, the flutter of eyelashes against his hair and it was then that louis noticed how close he was and how much closer he desired him to be.

finally, he surged up the courage to turn around but unfortunately could not find the willpower to fake a smile and play the generous host that he was often forced to play thanks to niall’s relaxed state when it came to welcoming people into their flat. especially at parties where he preferred to drink an endless number of pints and laugh loudly and snog zayn in a dark corner with wandering hands and slurred whispers.

“s’nice place you got, lou.” harry said.

louis nodded. “m.. thanks, haz.” he found himself blushing and why why why did he blush louis doesn’t blush he doesn’t blush louis tomlinson does. not. blush! but he did, oh lord he did.

louis suddenly felt overwhelmingly shy and this only ever happened when he really liked someone and was trying to impress them so that they could reciprocate some part of the feelings that he was having towards them or when he was so tired he can barely stand straight.

but lord knows that he wasn’t tired - not yet. however, in a sense louis felt as though he could never be tired again with the way harry’s fringe fell over his forehead and the way his green eyes were shining in the soft moonlight. louis felt as though he could stay up for the rest of his life if it meant that he could watch harry the way he was now. 

“do you have a bed i can sleep on or..?” harry trailed off and due to the crankiness of his voice, louis could tell that the boy was tired and he felt like shit, because fuck, it was late now and he was so so so ill and he needed to be in bed and why was he out this late anyway, especially on his own but now louis needed to get him into a bed so that he wouldn’t feel as guilty as he did and shit he never ever wanted to feel this guilty ever again and this was harry shit and why oh why was he feeling so strongly over a boy that is going to leave him sooner or later?

yet, of course louis was hoping for the “sooner” part of the alternatives. “never” would be fucking fantastic and despite his imagination and past time of dreaming about the endless possibilities that he can purchase, louis tomlinson is a realist and one day harry was going to leave him and yep, he shouldn’t feel this attached but harry is really beautiful and soft and sweet and undeserving of the penalty god has bestowed upon him.

“y-yeah, you can take my bed, haz. i’ll have the couch.” louis said.

“that really isn’t nec-” harry protested.

“no, i insist!” louis smiled. “go ahead. i’ll just grab a quilt or something from my wardrobe then i’ll be out of your way. um, do you need anything?” 

“nah, lou. m’fine.” harry said.

“okay.”

“okay.”

and then after louis had grabbed a quilt from his wardrobe, turned the alarm off on his phone and fluffed a pillow or two up for harry, the two boys parted ways and louis couldn’t help but hope desperately that harry might’ve asked him for help. he wanted to help him. on the other hand, he was totally glad that harry wasn’t in trouble enough to ask for help and he really really wanted harry to be happy. happier than anyone else that he knew, if he was being honest with himself.

yet, he didn’t know why.

 

~

louis was awoken the next morning by harry frantically calling his name and it had louis jumping out of his bed, hair dishevelled and sweatpants hung loose on his hips, eyes wide with worry and disorientation.

“lou! lou! louis! louis! louis tomlinson, i swear to god if you’re still asleep!”

he raced into the living room where he assumed the strained voice was coming from and he burst into the room, chest heaving from the sudden movement so early in the morning to find harry being confronted by a slurring niall.

who was stark naked, by the way.

louis just really fucking hoped that niall was slurring from lack of sleep or overuse of sleep instead of being under the influence of alcohol because fuck, he did not need that when being confronted with a worried harry as well as a confused niall.

harry’s wide eyes snapped to louis instantly and he rushed over, and clung to louis’ arm and louis had to push down the tender twisting at the pit of his stomach that made him feel like a silly teenage lovesick girl because /harry was touching him arm/. 

“louis, who the fuck is this and why is he naked and why are you in sweatpants? do you sleep in sweatpants? that’s gross, you loser.” harry was bristling with defense and confusion.

louis laughed. it was just all so bizarre! he gestures towards niall. “this is my, um, roommate, niall horan. he likes to walk around naked and should really leave the room before my amount of second hand embarrassment reaches an all time high, sweet jesus.”

niall barely registered what was happening, it seemed. his eyes were light from the shock in his eyes, the sleepy blush in his cheeks and the indecisiveness about whether he should leave or ask questions about this new stranger shouting about his nakedness when it’d been established before that he could trapeze within his own flat naked, if he wished. louis is a generous roommate after all.

but thankfully, he was able to collect his thoughts enough to mutter a “hey” to harry before he grabbed a bagel of the side and retreated back to his room. despite the tiredness, louis could see the we-are-so-going-to-talk-about-this-later-tomlinson look that was swirling in his blue eyes. 

louis groaned loudly before he laughed quietly to himself.

he caught the image of harry rolling his eyes but the smirk that played on his lips and the red blush on his cheeks was not going to escape his attention easily and he couldn’t help but tease him.

“did ya like what ya saw, pet?”

harry gaped at him. “just make me breakfast, tomlinson. i’m hungry.” he pouted and it was possibly one of the most adorablest acts that harry had ever done in the two times that they had been in each other’s company. louis loved it.

louis nodded and moved towards the fridge.

“no irish sausages for ya, i’m afraid.” he muttered with a grin as he picked out the egg box from the second shelf of the fridge. 

harry hit the back of his head and louis shouted an “oi!” but let it slip because, fuck, harry was honest to god glowing and how could louis take that away from him and still be a good person?

~

a week later, and harry’s presence had still remained within louis’ (and niall’s) flat. thankfully, niall had no problem under the condition that the “curly haired wonder” had “no qualms about his usual nakedness”; which harry reluctantly agreed to especially since niall had to put with harry’s insistent questions about ireland and the constant bathroom trips throughout the night that harry had yet to explain to the blonde boy.

louis, of course, knew.

because louis was the only one that knew about harry’s condition; and in between whispered conversations in the dim hallway or warm coffee shops, harry had told louis that it was to stay that way for as long as possible.

“people don’t need to know, especially since i’m not gonna last long, lou. just... don’t, ‘kay?”

what could louis have done?

so, instead of arguing with harry and he just nodded and smiled. “course, haz.”

~

louis knew this was a bad idea. his friends live to embarrass him and presenting the boy he secretly is in love with to them was probably the worst idea ever.

"we want to meet him" they said.

"we won't embarrass you" they said. 

"we promise" they said. 

however louis tomlinson is about 4785268% sure that showing harry past college photos and explaining with glee about how dramatic he is when drunk and whispering about how louis hadn't shut the fuck up about the wonders of harry styles and demonstrating how apparently hilarious he is when pissed is certainly not adhering to their promises. 

but ignoring the glee and radiance that shone from harry’s being at the normal and casual environment could surely not have been missed and as louis watched them with flushed ears and cheeks, he could not have helped it but to smile widely and chew his bottom lip with his teeth out of pure nervous habit 

harry was beautiful. louis refused to miss out on the expressions that passed harry’s face one by one.

shock, glee, second hand embarrassment, amusement, happiness, relaxed, laughter and awed. 

when harry murmured a soft "your friends are weird but i like them" louis grinned, ignoring in vain the happiness that curled his toes and swirled around his head in a whirlwind. 

maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. then again, niall was trying to bring in sexual innuendos into the conversation. 

oh christ.

"louis has a great ass yeah but that guy ain't bottoming i can tell yer that fa free yeh?"

at this, louis abruptly interrupted and tried to ignore the loud laughter from his three friends and narrowed his eyes. 

"dick" he cursed under his breath and tried not to meet harry’s gaze with fear of what he may have found. 

after three more rounds at FIFA harry regrettably turned in for the night with a smile, a look thrown at louis that made his insides quiver and tense as well as a cautious "we should do this again sometime" which was met by a loud niall nodding enthusiastically. louis rolled his eyes. 

he threw himself back into the game and jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket which caused him to miss the goal on one shot. cursing, louis stuck his middle finger up at a loud niall and zayn before unlocking his phone. 

From: harry styles  
To: louis tomlinson

Message: im a bottom

all air left louis' lungs. oh god. 

"he likes you mate" liam smiled. 

louis only nodded.

~

niall moved out two weeks later.

“zayn told me he loved me, lou! he loves me!” the irish lad had giggled happily as he ran around the room and gathered up every piece of garment of his that was sprawled on the floor. “i want to move in with him, i want to marry him and adopt children together and eat dinner together and watch crappy telly together and i want to be happy with him? who doesn’t want that?!”

truth be told, louis couldn’t think of a single person that wouldn’t but it didn’t stop the sourness leaking into his brain, fizzling dangerous toxins of envy and jealousy into his nerves.

niall had left with a cheeky grin, and a crushing hug that left louis feel empty because his best friend was leaving him and it didn’t matter it didn’t matter it didn’t matter that he would only be across from the library that was only two blocks away because it was always niall and louis niall and louis niall and louis against the world.

except now it wasn’t.

louis cried in harry’s arms that night, huge, fat salty tears embellishing his skin and scarring it with scratches of betrayal and grief. harry had soothed him with soft words and tender strokes on his too-hot skin and they shared their first kiss that night.

it was soft and sweet and tear stained and tentative and beyond indescribable words that louis could convey. it was beautiful. it was perfect. it was everything. 

so, it was then that louis realised that maybe it wasn’t niall and louis against the world anymore but maybe he could fight the world’s demons with harry. he was always led back to harry. did that leave meaning? he didn’t know at the time but it didn’t matter to him.

it was him and harry.

harryandlouis.

louisandharry.

against the world.

~

four months later and louis was ready, ready to tell the world, confess to harry, grab his hand and spill his heart out in a smooth river of emotion.

“will you be my boyfriend then?” he had blurted out over chicken soup and cheese bread. 

harry’s eyes raised to louis’ tentatively and he smiled sheepishly. “do you want me to be?”

“maybe..” louis began before he blushed rather roughly. “yes, harry, yes i do want you to be my boyfriend. so will you? maybe it’s really fast but you’ve been living with me and we’ve had a few dates here and there” (they had; the cinema, bowling, a quiet stroll through the park at midnight, old movies over take-out pizza) “and we’ve kissed and stuff.” (also known as the best and most wonderful thing louis had a fondness for) “if you don’t want to, it’s fine and i’ll probably just end up looking like a right weirdo but i don’t care really because i really like you, harry and-”

louis was rambling, stupid long sentences that held seven hundred and forty one meanings yet also was just a string of nonsense that louis was trying to rush out in an effort to make some kind of persuasive argument as to why harry should have made him the happiest boy ever.

thankfully, harry found it in himself to cut the boy off and reached over and silenced louis with a kiss. a bruising, passionate kiss and louis fell into it, his hands groped blindly at harry’s shoulders and applied pressure into the kiss.

it was wonderful and the meaning behind it probably added to the fantasticness of the kiss so that louis’ stomach twisted and curled deliciously and slowly. 

“yes.” harry grinned as they pulled away finally, and neither of them paid mind to the cold soup that was left neglected on the glass table in front of them. “yes, i’ll be your boyfriend, you absolute loser.”

both giggled and then louis kissed harry again, soaking up the glow that seemed to radiate from harry’s dimpled cheeks and big eyes.

 

~

it was cold in the flat. not the slightly chilly cold that usually covered the flat, but the near-antarctic-like temperature where louis had resorted to surrounding himself with large piles of big blankets and furry pillows from the sofa (despite harry telling him to “leave them well alone!”). louis had snickered and poked harry’s pouting bottom lip before he covered where his finger had been with his lips.

“s’cold.” he had said. 

harry had rolled his eyes and took a large swig of the glass of water he had in his hand.

now louis was alone. harry was out at his mother’s house for sunday dinner and louis was alone with a heavy set of guilt, sorrow and longing weighing down in the pit of his stomach. he hadn’t meant to do it; he hadn’t meant to bring up harry’s illness during a fight. he would never intentionally hurt harry; he’d rather die. but he did. 

maybe louis deserved to die for wounding such a beautiful and deserving of happiness human being.

it went like this:

(“that boy was checking you out.”]

“harry don’t be bitter.”

“he was. you were checking him out.”

“don’t be fucking ridiculous baby!”

“i’m serious.”

“whatever.”

“admit it, you’d prefer to be with him than me.”

“don’t.”

“but you would. admit it.”

“no.”

“admit it.”

“no.”

“admit it.”

“NO!”

“fucking admit it louis!”

“admit what? that maybe he could give me what i want? a family, a wedding, a future? admit that i’d rather be with someone that wasn’t fucking dying? because maybe i do, haz. maybe i want someone that wants to spend the rest of their life with me!”

“oh.”

“haz, no-”

“s’fine.”

“harry!”

“i’ll just go to mum’s. she’s expecting me in three hours.”)

HE DIDN’T MEAN IT!

unfortunately, he said it and he might as well have punched harry repeatedly in the throat whilst stabbing him at the base of the poor boy’s spine for all the damage that he did. 

louis whimpered and tugged painfully at his hair that seemed to stick up everywhere, that seemed to have no direction, that seemed to be all over the place, that seemed to have been reduced to nothing without harry’s soft embrace and harry’s large hands to smooth the strayed hair behind louis’ ear.

every part of him ached for harry.

harryharryharry.

it was harry’s name he whimpered as he trudged through the cold hallways, harry’s name he whispered as he grabbed the bottle of vodka from the top cupboard, harry’s name he gasped as the alcohol burned in his throat, harry’s name he cried out as the fourth bottle of the dangerous liquid smashed to the floor and sliced into his vulnerable skin.

it was harry he longed for.

when he tumbled to the ground, he was unsure. when harry’s warm arms enveloped around him, he was unsure. but what he was definitely sure of was that the overwhelming joy that harry had returned home, had returned to him was amazingly huge. 

what more could he have asked for?

harry cradled louis in his arms, and the influenced boy groaned under the sudden movement. “baby, what did you do? fuck, fuck, fuck, why did you drink so much and why are you bleeding? you’re not allowed to die before me, remember?” louis heard harry as the curly haired boy chuckled breathlessly and he whimpered.

“you’re gonna leave me haz, and then i’m gonna die alone with nothing but our memories of this, of us, of our stupid fights, our silly games, our homecooked meals, our lazy sundays, our soft kisses, our everything and it’s not fucking FAIR! i want you forever and you deserve, we deserve to be together forever okay? we deserve to get married and grow old together and adopt bright eyed children and sing to each other under the stars on our sixtieth anniversary and i need that harry, i need you, forever but i’m not going to get it and that’s fucking unfair and maybe i’m selfish but i don’t CARE!” 

louis’ chest was heaving and his cheeks were burning red from the exhaustion and his lips were trembling from the emotion bubbling underneath his fingertips and he was so lost that he didn’t notice the choked up expression harry held.

“i know.” harry whispered mournfully and pressed a kiss to louis’ temple. “this is bullshit. i know. c’mon, let’s get you to bed. you’re drunk.”

louis frowned and shook his head yet couldn’t find the energy to deny it because maybe he was drunk! why else would the room be spinning??

plush cushions pressed into his back and further confusion washed over him, drowsiness cocooning his senses and nerves. it was peaceful, falling asleep. like dying. but then louis had to stop himself. because harry dying wouldn’t be peaceful at all. it was going to be cruel and hard and painful and rough and hissing and like a kick to the stomach. 

he didn’t want to sleep. he wanted to be awake and not be so drunk and he needed to talk to harry and kiss him and stroke every single one of his tattoos and he desired to just watch harry, and see and understand and drill into his brain every inch of him, commit harry styles to memory so that he would never forget this unforgettable boy. this wonderful, unforgettable boy that changed his life.

however, he could feel sleep crowding over his limp figure that lay in harry’s capable yet shaking arms, the boy’s heat inviting sleep in and his eyes were fluttered close then he was gone. gone gone gone gone gone gone.

“s’ok lou. i love you.” and that was the last thing louis heard before he drifted away into sub-consciousness. 

it was also the first time harry said those three words.

~

tuesday evening the world crashed down on louis' shoulders, pinning the vulnerable boy to the cold ground with cruel force.

"ive gotten worse" harry had murmured in bed, tired.

harry was tired a lot lately: louis shouldve paid more attention. the reality of everything led louis to the point where he almost didnt speak.

"how worse?" he finally cracked ouf.

"just... worse."

it was harry that cried in louis' arms that night and louis only allowed soothing whispers and soft drops of tears to sink into harry's curls as he rocked them both back and forth. 

"it's gonna be fine baby" he'd croaked out, barely believing the words himself because when was any of this okay? 

~

beep. beep. beep.

louis hated hospitals but hed do anything for harry so here he was.

"you didn't have to come louis" harry whispered as they sat down in the pristine waiting room.

louis shook his head. "you want me here right?" harry nodded. "then im staying with you. i won't leave you haz."

the corners of harry's mouth pulled down and his shoulders deflated. "im gonna leave you one day lou." he whispered sorrowfully and closed his eyes as if the brightness of the light of the room was too much for him. 

for a young person harry carried so much weight and it made louis sad. he tilted harry's chin up with his forefinger and traced the boy's features with his eyes and his heart ached. 

"look at me"

harry sucked in his bottom lip but didn't comply. 

"look at me"

harry instead tightened his grip on the hand that louis had put in his as theyd climbed out the car door. 

"why?"

"baby. haz. just look at me. please." louis whispered against the shell of harry's ear. 

opening his eyes reluctantly harry released his lip and louis smiled. even in the worst of circumstances harry was beautiful. 

"don't talk like that. it’s not guaranteed you'll die" louis choked out the word as if it was a lump in his throat preventing speech. "im not leaving you and you're not leaving me alright? baby?" louis prompted.

"fine. okay. yeah." harry smiled weakly and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to louis' lips. louis accepted the kiss and were only interrupted by a middle aged woman smiling politely at them and the couple giggled like teenagers. 

they were quiet for about three minutes before louis brushed his lips against harry's ear with a soft "i love you".

harry glowed and louis felt a raw sense of accomplishment. 

when the pair was out it seemed that a large bubble surrounded them andprotected them from the cruelty that the world provided. today was no exception, but unfortunately bubbles are easy to pop as did "Dr. Ryans" as the ginger man requested harry for his appointment. 

louis stood up at the same time as harry and was the receiving end of a wide eyed look from harry. 

"stay here love"

"you don't want me with you?' louis frowned. was he ashamed of him? 

"will you wait here for me? It gives me something to look forward to." the way harry said it made louis want to drop to his knees and sob. instead he smiled hesitantly and nodded. 

"ill always wait for you haz. "

harry gasped, blind sided at the pure honesty in louis' voice but quickly pulled himself together enough to press a kiss to louis' mouth before heading into the hallway with Dr. Ryans.

talking his seat, louis waited and tried to ignore the prying looks, the crappy rita ora pouring from the stereo on the bookshelf opposite him and tried to focus on being there for harry. 

it physically hurt louis that harry hadn't had someone to wait for him before louis. he couldn't help but wonder what else he'd had to do alone before as well but that was painful even to think about a sad wide eyed curly haired boy with no one to hold him so he had to halt his train of thought after two minutes.

the ticking of the analogue click on the white wall was amongst the things that were annoying him. 

hours seemed to pass before harry returned, red eyed and shaky hands. louis rushed up and ticked the vulnerable boy into his side. they walked in silence to the car and louis hadn't even unlocked the transportation device before harry sobbed into louis' shoulder, wetting the fabric of his new shirt. 

"why aren't i fucking getting better, lou?" harry whimpered and louis had to close his eyes. 

"i don't know love. i don't know."

and if they were in a movie that would've been the part where the camera panned away, leaving the sobbing couple alone.

~

“you need to move on and get over the fact that i really fucking like you, harry styles.” louis murmured and interrupted harry’s daze. the curly haired boy started and his eyes widened as he shut the journal that was resting on his lap at a rapid speed. louis smirked.

“excuse me?” the voice in which harry replied was surely higher in pitch than harry would’ve liked, yet louis couldn’t help but allow his smile to widen at the sound.

louis nodded towards his journal and cleared his throat unsteadily. “i’m not pretty, i’m not pretty, i’m not normal, i’m not nice, why, why, why, louis doesn’t like me, why would he, no one would, that’s who, i’m not pretty, i’m not pretty, i’m not normal, i’m not nice.” he recited carefully, the black ink from the page forever drilled into his mind. it hurted his chest how desperate and insecure the notes were.

harry blushed.

before harry could release the inevitable “but you don’t understand, lou, i’m not pretty or normal and i don’t get why you put up with me and i’m gonna die, lou. i’m gonna fucking die.” that he used every time they both came to this, louis towered over the boy, covering his body with his and louis’ thighs captured harry’s hips in a vice-like grip. 

louis watched the breath rush out of harry’s lungs with smugness and he wetted his bottom lip with his tongue as he leaned closer to the barely-breathing-enough-to-surely-be-alive boy. he could feel the hard pounding of the boy’s heart and his hands reached up to slide into harry’s curls, and he pulled the ragged boy’s head back, and he exposed his pale neck and full lips.

he was fucking beautiful.

“you. are. beautiful.” louis demanded the boy’s attention and even if harry wanted to look away, he couldn’t due to the grip louis had on his tilted head. heat curled deliciously. “and funny and perfect. and sweet and kind. and smart and you don’t take anyone’s bullshit - especially mine. which of course leads us to the question, harold... why do you think my feelings for you are bullshit? hm?” louis prompted and left open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of harry’s pale throat and sharp jaw. it brought self-satisfaction to the twenty-one year old when he felt the pounding of harry’s heart and the quickness of his breathing.

“i-” harry started before he sighed raggedly, green eyes wide and begging.

louis licked at harry’s bottom lip and smiled easily. “well?”

harry was a defeatist especially since he was diagnosed, so when he muttered a desolate “because i’m fucking useless. m’gonna die, lou.”, it wasn’t not much of a surprise to optimistic louis but that didn’t mean it didn’t stab his heart in a million different ways.

“we all die eventually, love.” louis whispered against harry’s hot skin, his fingers traced soothing patterns into the defeated boy’s scalp.

“did you just call me love?” harry asked.

“did you just ask?”

“well... yes.” louis could feel the confused frown playing on his lover’s features. it made him smile harder than he should have. 

“then, yes, i did just call you ‘love’.” he admitted.

“you’re an idiot.”

louis giggled and retaliated with an “your idiot”.

“surely you know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’ mr. writer?” harry teased breathlessly and he smiled, his dimples appeared and louis’ heart expanded. he loved harry’s dimples with a fierce, raw passion. they made him look young, so much younger than he actually was and it always, always set off a burning desire deep in his stomach that made him want to ravage the boy, destroy him, make him his for the whole world to see.

harry tilted his head further and louis smiled easily as he took pity on the boy and he pressed his lips to harry’s. he sucked in harry’s bottom lip into his mouth and groaned as he pulled and caressed and tugged and nibbled the pink flesh. the boy’s lips were soft like velvet and as red as sin. perfect like always. like him.

in that moment, louis was positive that he could die happy in that moment because he had harry. and that was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed. harry.

but dying was hard and horrible and painful for everyone involved in louis’ mind. maybe before harry he would’ve wondered about death and its promises and what it would’ve gave louis in return for his life but then harry happened. and one day harry was going to leave him - much sooner than should even be allowed, should be permitted, but still, soon and louis realised that he couldn’t possibly take much more time away from them. he couldn’t.

time was precious. time with harry was precious. harry was precious. precious.

~

the candles were lit, the music was playing, and the petals were scattered. 

tonight was it.

louis was going to make love to harry.

make love. the phrase sent a curl of warmth in his veins; they were going to be closer than he could have ever imagined and to make love to the love of his life (because lets be honest, no one would ever weigh up to harry) was overwhelming and wonderful.

the door closed and louis shot down the hallway and grabbed harry's hand eagerly with bright eyes full of excitement and hope. 

"lou!" harry giggled. what are you doing love?"

ignoring the chance to trade harry about the use of pet name, louis tucked harry closer and stood outside their bedroom door. 

"you can say no haz but i want to make love to you and i completely understand if you're not ready or anything so don't worry abo-" his nervous ramblings were cut off by an awed harry pressing his lips to louis'. they both surrendered with a breath and louis was finally able to open their door with fumbling hands and red cheeks, much to harry's amusement. 

behind him, harry gasped. “ lou... this is beautiful."

louis smirked. “not as beautiful as you love"

harry blushed under the warm lighting of the calm room, much to louis’ delight.

placing his arms underneath harry’s thighs in a swift movement, louis carried harry to the bed and harry squealed. “romantic” he teased, to which louis replied, “only the best for my prince.”

louis nestled in between harry’s legs and kissed along harry’s jaw. “are you ready? i don’t want to rush you haz.”

the curly haired boy rolled his eyes, wide eyes bright. “just fuck me, louis.”

“make love.” louis admonished with a sincere smile and harry giggled, redness taking over his pale skin.

“fine. make love to me louis.” harry snickered but his negative comments were soon swallowed up as louis pulled his teeth back and kissed down harry’s torso teasingly and looked up at him from under his long eyelashes. he made harry a writhing, sweaty and euphoric mess.

touching harry’s skin was like tasting heaven, smooth and exciting yet dangerous and powerful. louis was sure that he would never tire of tracing the sensitive spot around harry’s nipple or raking his nails delicately down harry’s v-line or flicking his tongue out along the shell of harry’s ear or moving his hand along harry’s shaft just a certain way to make his abs clench and twist before him. harry was vulnerable and soft and sweaty and wide eyed and willing and perfect and flushed. he looked beautiful from every angle. the sound of harry climaxing was wonderful as well. a pure mixture of high keening and deep, hot tones within his throat.

their time together was more than louis had expected and more. the thought of harry leaving him made him wince in pain that had yet to be inflicted upon him. 

as louis cradled harry afterwards, louis contemplated what life would be like after harry.

it hurt too much for him to dwell on so he instead focused on the soft breaths against his shoulder.

~

louis and harry were curled up together on the flat building roof - “the roof, lou? really? it’s like you want me dead, earlier than i’m due to die!” “just climb up with me haz and allow me to be romantic for a hour or two, harry, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if harry should know, should understand everything that louis raved and babbled on about twenty four-seven. which everyone knew was certainly not the case. “baby. baby baby baby.” 

“no” harry cut him off, much to louis’ mock dismay as he pouted. harry had to look away. “it’s stupid. and if anyone hears about you even wanting to call me that god awful name, i will kill you, louis.”

silence.

“does this mean no tattoos?”

“no tattoos, louis.”

“i was kidding!”

“no you weren’t.”

“no, i wasn’t. but i do love you. my very lovable boyfriend!”

harry laughed and rolled his eyes, he tilted his head up for a kiss. louis didn’t overlook how harry fucking glowed under the moonlight and vowed to make this incident a weekly recurrence. ?” “fine.” -, hands entwined flawlessly, harry’s head rested on louis’ shoulder as his eyelids drooped half-way down to convey a dazed state on the curly haired boy’s face. louis had a bright grin on his face as he stared up at the twinkling lights with fierce hope and optimism that seemed to never dry out even in the most unpromising of situations.

“and then like, we could travel off into the moon and roll around and maybe, just maybe it’s actually made of like, marshmallows and stuff. i mean, marshmallows. moon. it’s alliteration, innit?” louis outstretched his hand and made a sweeping motion as if drawing a rainbow or trail of stars in the night sky.

“you’re an idiot.” harry laughed but they both knew he didn’t mean it.

“your idiot.”

harry rolled his eyes before he felt louis’ gaze on him and he couldn’t help but smirk easily. louis was romantic, very romantic, extremely cheesy, often too cheesy if harry was being completely honest with himself.

it was silent with nothing but the soft breaths of the young couple and the whoosh of the wind that rustled through the nearby trees which then disturbed the peacefulness of the thursday night.

then harry spoke. “i’m going to die, lou.” 

“then let’s savour what we have, love.” louis’ voice was dry and cracked, annoyance slipped through the cracks but only softly after sweet denial. harry wasn’t going to die, he wasn’t going to die, not going to leave without him. no no no, louis had to remind himself everytime he looked at the beautiful masterpiece of a boy. 

he wasn’t entirely sure if it was therapeutic or insane yet.

“okay.”

“okay.”

yet both knew that everything was far from okay: louis was on edge, in denial of the harsh topic they both often found themselves on, and harry was masked in a silver cloak of depression and reality but every now and again louis would lift the cape, which allowed sun and light from the boy to seep into harry’s pores. the cheshire boy wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad for him.

louis nudged his lips to the left, neared harry’s ear as his voice dropped to a soft whisper. “i want to tell the whole world that you’re mine.”

“why?” louis could feel the frown that played on his boyfriend’s face.

“because i love my very lovable boyfriend.”

it was simple in louis’ eyes and heart.

“m’not lovable. don’t say that. if you say that then it means that i have redeeming qualities which i severely lack in, tomlinson.” harry snapped.

and what harry wasn’t prepared for is that louis snaps right back. “fuck off, harry.”

“what?”

“don’t be an asshole. you’re fucking perfect and i love you and i hate that you think so lowly of yourself when all i see is how amazing you are yet you are unable to see even a tidbit of that. it’s fucking irritating and if i didn’t love you then we wouldn’t be having this fucking conversation.” louis sighed and settled his stony gaze on harry which swiftly softened as he caught the deer-in-headlights look in harry’s eyes. louis could never be rude or less-than-generous to the boy he was in deep love with.

“m’sorry.”

“you’re not.” louis whispered and kissed the tip of harry’s nose. harry blushed.

harry nodded. “i’m not.”

it was quiet again. birds were chirping, knees were knocking, breathing was soft and heavy, soft and heavy, soft and heavy.

“baby.” the feathery-haired boy whispered.

“w-what?” harry murmured, confused at the turn of conversation. normally, louis was quieter or at least wanted to fight - or discuss, as he put it - about how harry viewed himself. harry always retorted that they’re fighting. but he liked that. normal couples fighted. normal is good. normal is... normal, which is something he was not always able to grasp.

“that’s my new nickname for you,” louis grinned at harry, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if harry should know, should understand everything that louis raved and babbled on about twenty four-seven. which everyone knew was certainly not the case. “baby. baby baby baby.” 

“no” harry cut him off, much to louis’ mock dismay as he pouted. harry had to look away. “it’s stupid. and if anyone hears about you even wanting to call me that god awful name, i will kill you, louis.”

silence.

“does this mean no tattoos?”

“no tattoos, louis.”

“i was kidding!”

“no you weren’t.”

“no, i wasn’t. but i do love you. my very lovable boyfriend!”

harry laughed and rolled his eyes, he tilted his head up for a kiss. louis didn’t overlook how harry fucking glowed under the moonlight and vowed to make this incident a weekly recurrence.

~

From: louis tomlinson  
To: harry styles

Message: you look beautiful today.

From: harry styles  
To: louis tomlinson

Message: louis, i look like shit.

From: louis tomlinson  
To: harry styles

Message: you wear it well.

From: harry styles  
To: louis tomlinson

Message: asshole.x

~

louis could feel his breathing pace up quickly as harry returned to his seat, to louis’ arms and the boy moved closer into louis, which spreaded undeniable warmth through louis without fail. he needed to do it soon or he never would. and this thing - this love - that louis shared with harry was something so indescribable so real so amazing so only-found-in-tragic-romance-novels that louis sometimes couldn’t even begin to grasp words to convey what they had. it was beautiful and louis wanted to - needed to - show that to harry, his harry. harry harry harry.

louis was certain that if someone smashed open his skull and a fountain of his thoughts spilled out of his head in a river of pictures that each and every one would be a candid photo of harry styles. he was all he thought about, after all.

“i’m in love with you.” louis blurted and his eyes widened as he realised what he just said. not that he’s lying or that he’s unsure, because louis tomlinson could not deny in any way that he was irrevocably and totally in love with harry styles. why wouldn’t he, after all?

harry stiffened in louis’ arms and alarm bells rang loudly in louis’ mind. shitshitshitshit. i was a few moments of excruciatingly painful, tense silence before harry twisted around in louis’ arms and even with shock, anger and self-pity hidden deep in his irises, harry styles was still one of the most beautiful people louis had ever and would probably ever encounter in his stupid, meaningless life.

“what?” harry breathed. but before louis could open his mouth to interrupt or say anything back, harry’s eyes were brimming with tears and his feeble hands pushed at louis’ chest. “NO!” harry roared, which sent tremors of fear and confusion through louis’ nerves. “NO! louis, fuck fuck fuck, no! you’re not allowed to love me, you can’t, i’m unlovable, i’m unloved, don’t do this to me, don’t do this to yourself please fuck fuck shit shit shit no!” harry’s breath was coming in quick and short breaths and louis whimpered, shaking his head.

harry wasn’t unlovable. he was fucking beautiful and loyal and kind and hardworking and mysterious and selfless and funny and sarcastic and smart as hell and childlike in the most perfect way and charismatic and fantastic and wonderful and everything louis had ever imagined that he could want.

“haz..” louis gasped out, reached for the unreachable boy who jumped out of his reach, whom then stumbled backwards and large hands grasped at his stomach, pulling and tugged in a way that had louis choke up. no no no.

louis wasn’t sure when he started crying but he could feel the heavy tears weighing down on his skin, his heart rate speed up and the pain that wrapped around his woeful emotions like a dangerous python, squeezing until he has no air to breathe, nothing nothing nothing.

“no!” harry shouted. “because i’m gonna die, i’m gonna die real fucking soon, i-i can feel it, okay? and then and then and then.. where are you gonna be? alone - no fuck that, you won’t be alone because everyone loves lou, everyone loves my lou, shit - and you’ll mourn over a stupid boy who doesn’t deserve your love or anything that you give me. no, lou, no. i’m gonna die and leave you behind, leave what we have behind. do i want to? DO I FUCK! but i will!” harry cried out and shook his head, fat sweaty tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he clutched tightly at the remnants of his curls. 

louis’ chest hurt. it squeezed and pulsated and stretched around his rapidly beating heart and louis didn’t think he could take it.

“please haz please listen, i love you.” louis whispers brokenly. “you.”

harry whimpered - a soft, broken whimper that scratched at louis’ nerves and heart, because he’d do anything fucking anything to never hear that sound again never again -and then he was gone, out the door, which left only a sobbing louis and a cold draft in the once happy flat. 

louis didn’t think he could move. so he didn’t. didn’t move from his spot on the lumpy sofa that seemed so much more alienated now that harry wasn’t there with him.

everything was wrong, distant, cold without harry.

harry.

louis sobbed again.

~

From: harry styles  
To: louis tomlinson

Message: lou it hurts it really fucking hurts i need you with me please hurry i want to die with you here please don't leave me fuck im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im in the alley behind the library why am i here i don't want to die at least not without you lou please i love you don't leave me

~

louis had never ran so hard in his life. 

harry looked fragile in his arms, delicate like a wilting flower but still beautiful like a young porcelain doll.

"its stupid and cheesy to want to die in your arms isnt it?" harry whispered.

louis laughed waterily without human and he shook his head, tightening his arms around harry.

"s'not baby. s'nice. i love you okay?"

"im stupid i shouldn't have fought with you baby you were telling me you loved me and i was fucking stupid to shout like oh my god lou you love me and ive fucked it up haven't i never leave me please let's not fight i just need you here while i die dying in your arms is fine its fucking wonderful lou because you're heaven you're an angel right okay" harry rushed out in short breaths. he couldn't even breathe properly and it cut into louis' abdomen, reaching up and tearing at his heart piece by piece. 

louis rocked them back and forth and tried to control his years that were falling heavily. their hands interlocked worth each others and the limpness yet desperation held between them was heartwrenching.

"i don't care harry because you fucking cared enough to fight alright and do you understand how beautiful that is? because it's amazing harry. i love you so much you're my soul mate and the fact that ive had the chance to get to know you is fantastic haz." louis whimpered and hid his face in harry's neck before coming back up just as quickly as he disappeared into harry's damp skin. 

harry groaned loudly as his back arched in pain and he pressed his nose into louis, requesting a kiss which louis obliged to with fondness despite the self restraint it was taking him. the last thing he ever wanted was for harry to writhe in pain in his arms yet he wanted to hold him and soothe him in his ... death. it was bittersweet and louis’ mind stuttered over the D word. 

"i love you louis tomlinson and if this weren't it then i would've been proud to call you my husband, the father of my children and my everything."

the way harry was murmuring softly to him made louis shake hoods head on heavy denial. nononononono. harry wasn't leaving him he couldn't no they deserved forever they needed forever with each other. 

unfortunately their time had ran out, the irregular ticking of an old clock came to a standstill as all breath left harry's lungs, leaving louis alone with the love of his life in his arms.

"please harry no please don't leave me please please please!" louis shouted desperately to blind ears. 

even in death harry was beautiful. his skin was like porcelain, lips red from the small amount of warmth left in his body, curls soft and shoulders loose. piece by piece, little by little louis fell apart with a gasped NO.

sobbing, louis tomlinson collapsed.


End file.
